Sitting here reflecting on a fortnight of blessed hell if there is such a thing.

Given I am not even an atheist (existentialist, pansexual iconoclast yes) then no, there is no god, no conveniently off earth heaven, nor hell. Jesus Christ was a human, not a phenomena befitting a total tax free scourge of community.

So I reported my 33 year old crime against humanity to the Royal Commission into Sexual Abuse of Children, the Australian Federal Police and now I have a team of detectives hunting down the key perpetrator and five other accomplices that raped me, attacked me and held me against my own liberty over a four year period.

As is typically reported by other survivors my own parents disbelieved me upon telling them aged 15, 18, 40. Coincidentally dear reader did you know that the average duration of time between the last perpetration and the point of reporting it to police is 33 years?

True. Go look it up.

Again, typically, other males immediately upon hearing the news oscillated from "...why didn't you fight back" through to "...lets go kill the cunts". My answer being that a skinny eleven year old repeatedly attacked by adult males upwards of one hundred kilograms as cogent a memory as sick is their fantasy.

Upon hearing that I forgave the individuals and would not be dedicating the rest of my life to seeking monetary compensation, I have had numerous people cut me off with a final remark about how I "...didn't value my own life or that of others who have been abused."

My retort has been "....My innocence was priceless. Compensation equals crime divided by consequences equals child sex slave. The answer is in prevention not some sick capitalistic bullshit payment so kindly fuck off back to your malls and mortgages."

There have been death threats - "....go neck yourself you sick victim." and there have been well meaning mothers indicating that "...while we trust you we think you need to be helping yourself." My answer "...I don't need your platitudes nor your fear. Be warned that your own children are at extreme risk from those you most respect in those institutions you bow down to as sheep."

Then there is the repeat mantra from those who have got nothing better to say other than to repeat "....well I hope you find healing by this reporting and that connecting with others will rekindle your life flame."

Vomit.

For fuck sake actually respond after you have been LISTENING. My name is not "...VICTIM."

My name is Alexander and I am a survivor.

Then there is the odd angel who upon seeing me crushed, lying on a hospital bed with blood pressure of 170/112 stated "....Alex I don't know if anyone has said this to you yet but I'd like to thankyou on behalf of humanity for your courage to speak out and in doing so you will save the lives of others and give hope to those still living in hell unable to speak of their own tragic story."

So how is it that my life has suddenly taken a massive new trajectory?

I think it is that in embracing death itself and knowing that there is nothing worse than a living hell that it gave me the capacity and capability to help others who have not had the same courage to speak out.

I expect NOTHING from the process of the Royal Commission.

No apology is suffice and my deep set hatred of the Royal family, the Westminster pillage, the pomp and ceremony while millions suffer should be enough to indicate that I see the process as no more than a historical coverup, largely faciltated by the very perpetrators, the religious institutions themselves.

As I have indicated elsewhere I see the internet as my hansard and long after I have passed over and long buried my earth bound story will keep rebounding through humanity.

I see trial by social media as the current main mechanism for sending the chilling effect to each and every sick viper that preys on the vulnerability of children as sexual pleasure, as a warning to all Munchausen mothers suffocating their kids with "love" and as a direct attack on the institutions that I'd happily see bulldozed and outlawed.

No, I wont "get over it."

If that is your underlying feeling as a reader, to tell me to get over it, then you too can fuck up and log off.

I will live with it, accept it, draw courage from it and I may even keep sharing it, always. Frankly I don't care what you do with my story, rather, take the hint, get tough but gentle and share your own story everywhere.

Keep sharing it and live with your sexual abuse if that is your unfortunate but fortunate reality. They scrambled your code but they don't own your soul.